Touch
by The Elder Swear
Summary: Most people express themselves through words. They have to or they won't be heard. Dean Winchester is not one of those people, but he has his own way of being heard.


**A/N: Okay, so I know it's been forever since I posted anything. Summer kinda got busy what with preparing for college and everything. As I'm leaving for college in a few days, assuming it doesn't get destroyed by a hurricane, it'll probably be a while before I get anything else up, so I'm apologizing in advance for that. I've also had a little fandom ADD lately, but I should be more focused once season seven starts. This is another one of my 100 prompts, I've got several more in the works, but some of them have become much longer than I originally intended, so it might take a while for those to be finished. Anyway, I hope you like this, it's a little different from my usual, but I think it turned out okay. Please Read and Review!**

**Warnings: Some spoilers for seasons four and five, and some pre-slash and implied slash.**

**Couples/Characters: Dean character study, Dean/Castiel, Bobby, Sam**

**Disclaimer: If this at all resembles anything written by anyone who actually owns Supernatural, that would be super cool. Not mine, just borrowing the characters!**

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><p>Most people express emotions through words. They say how they're feeling. Really, they kinda have to or people usually don't get it. Most people also usually need other people to know how they're feeling, so it makes sense. Dean Winchester was not one of those people.<p>

He didn't do all that deep conversation crap. That was Sam's thing. If something was bothering Sam, all he had to do was ask and it would all come pouring out. Growing up, Sam's emotions, Sam's wants and needs, that's what was important. Being raised that way, Sam got used to it, used to vocalizing, telling others how he felt before they could do the same. It wasn't a selfish thing; it was just how he operated, how his brain was wired. A lot of the time, Sam wished Dean could just tell him what was bothering him, but he didn't until it was years too late most of the time. That just wasn't Dean, Sam knew that, but sometimes he wanted his brother to once just tell him what was on his mind, let him help with whatever the hell was bothering him.

John vocalized too, but a bit differently. He tried to hold back certain things, things that made him seem weak, vulnerable. He had to be strong for his boys, keep them safe, avenge their mother, make sure they knew he would always protect them. Unfortunately, that filter only let certain things through, pride, anger, and determination. Everything else, sadness, grief, affection, got forced through as something else. Sadness became deep, unapproachable, occasionally drunken depression. Grief turned into over the top angst and unhappiness. Affection became, well… that one never seemed to get through in any form. To the end of his days, John would regret that, that he could never truly tell his boys how much he cared, how much he loved them. John molded himself into a bulletproof being, iron plated through and through.

Though he always did his best to emulate John, Dean wasn't that either, he had too much of his mother in him.

Dean fit Mary's mold the best, though he was still uniquely Dean. Their similarities ran deep, raised as the dutiful child of hunters, forced into a life they never wanted for anyone else. Mary took years, almost too late, to finally begin speaking. Dean tried, damn it he tried, but he couldn't get the stupid words out right.

However, Dean had his own way of expressing emotions, something that he began long before he ever started hunting. That drastic shift in his life just cemented it. Unfortunately, his method was far more subtle than Sam's. It had to be, his job was Sammy, being a good son and brother, following John's orders. They had to come first; his own feelings could never be voiced for fear of not hearing theirs.

As anyone who had been in a room with Dean for more than three minutes could attest to, he was a very physical person. Not just in the R rated way. Every shift in his posture, touch of a hand, or slight nod went so much deeper. In order to read Dean, one had to be fluent in body language. And not in the dirty way, good god, stop going there!

Sam sort of understood, mostly bits and pieces, but there were subtleties he would miss. It wasn't that he didn't try, hell he worked his ass off to figure out what the hell was going through Dean's mind, but he just wasn't programmed that way. Most of what he understood came from just spending so much time with him, though a few years on the road honestly trying warranted more than most of what he had picked up in their childhood.

For many years, the person who read Dean the best was Bobby Singer. Bobby was the same, but by choice. After his wife's passing, letting things through any other way just didn't feel right. Who was he to complain? Now he loved both Sam and Dean, he really did, but Bobby always felt more connected with the older Winchester. Sam was a great kid, brilliant future ahead of him, but that was because John had let him be protected, kept him safe, kept him special. Dean was different, he had been forced into this, Bobby knew the feeling. The boy worked so hard to cater to John's every whim that he had never been able to develop any of his own, anything different he wanted, any other goals. All Dean wanted was to keep his family safe, together, happy, but Sam and John were destined to rip each other to pieces, and Dean would be caught in the middle. Bobby knew that and it killed him to know there was nothing he could do about it.

Still, it wasn't always a big dramatic angsty problem of hopeless sadness and despair. Really, it was just how Dean worked, and it worked for him. Sure he wouldn't go for the goddamn chick flick moments, but he could hug Sam when he wanted, punch him when he deserved it, and slap his ass for a joke every now and then. Being a more physical person also got him certain places, yes, in the skanky McSlutbag way, happy?

For some, Dean's nuances were still a bit odd. Castiel for one was often left feeling deeply confused by Dean's touchy-feeliness despite the fact that he refused to speak of "touchy-feely" things. Eventually, he did begin to put things together, and he found he didn't mind Dean's unique brand of affection.

The first time he really, truly worked with Dean, Castiel saw it in his eyes. That far more than his prayers and pleadings compelled Castiel to act.

As he explained exactly why he couldn't help, Castiel saw the realization form behind Dean's eyes. He saw the way the corner of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly. When Dean thanked him, Castiel could feel the true gratitude, watched the tension leave Dean's shoulders, observed as the sudden burst of hope made Dean's chest swell faintly.

Later, when they met in the White Room, it was the way Dean chased him, forced him to keep eye contact that nearly snapped Castiel's resolve then and there. Looking back, he wished it had, so much could have been prevented. The set of Dean's jaw, the focus of his unwavering eyes shook Castiel to his core. But worst was the way the disappointment and betrayal Dean felt radiated off him in waves as he turned away. Castiel was tempted to reach out, to communicate in Dean's way, but couldn't bring himself to move. So he spoke and shattered when Dean's words bit into him.

It wasn't until later when the actual "touchy-feely" part came into play. When Castiel first touched Dean, barring raising him from perdition, he felt a thrill leap from his fingers. He had only rarely come into actual contact with a human, the only one of note he could remember, apart from his vessel, had been Sam Winchester. That had been different, though there was goodness deep within Sam, it was so buried by darkness, coated in demon blood, Castiel could almost feel his Grace burn at the contact. Still, beyond that, the feeling of skin against skin was so foreign, he forced himself to linger, to simply feel. Touching Dean was different.

After Sam doomed the world, Castiel found himself working more closely with the brothers. Sam was a bit skittish around him, around everyone really, which Castiel found he couldn't hold against him. Given what he had done, Sam's constant laments of regret and apology were understandable, but trying. He wanted to talk, to tell everyone just how sorry he was, how horrible he felt, but Castiel discovered he didn't want to hear it, something he and Dean had in common. The need for forgiveness that was so shrill in Sam's voice made him nearly intolerable to listen to, it grated on the nerves Castiel didn't know he had. Seeing the way Dean would tense every time Sam began to speak, Castiel could tell the feeling was shared. That was part of the reason Castiel preferred coming when Dean called, working with Dean and just being near him.

Many people seemed uncomfortable with how close Castiel would come to them. Dean had to remind him of 'personal space' several times, but after they journeyed to the den of iniquity together, Dean seemed to let some of these boundaries fall. Even before, he didn't seem to mind unless he was in a room containing a fair amount of porcelain for some reason. The change in Dean's demeanor from the hotel room just the day before to preparing to interrogate the officer about Raphael was staggering.

Obviously startled and unnerved by Castiel's sudden appearance behind him, Dean had protected himself, both by layering his speech with strange metaphors and by keeping distance between them. By the set of his shoulders, the ice in his eyes, Castiel could tell this had not been the best time for him to arrive, but he needed Dean's help. If this was to be he final action, given that he was searching for an archangel who had already killed him once that was a likely end result, he wanted Dean to be with him.

Castiel didn't know what to do while Dean adjusted his tie and collar when they prepared to meet with the officer who had seen Raphael. The action did not bother him, but it was oddly familiar, he had witnessed several of the people on the television doing something similar, so it was most likely a common occurrence, though he couldn't recall Dean ever doing such a thing for Sam. It was probably of little import, but it was oddly… nice.

Over the next few days, Castiel found Dean reaching out for him fairly often. Having the human's arm draped over him or thrown over his shoulders was somehow comforting. As Sam had temporarily taken a break from hunting, Castiel knew he couldn't stay away from it forever, he and Dean spent a good deal of time alone together. Angels rarely touched each other either in their true forms or while taking vessels, so Dean's frequent hypocritical invasion of Castiel's space was not exactly something he was used to.

At first, Castiel didn't quite understand, Angels very rarely showed any sign of affection for one another; the most recent he could remember had been from Gabriel shortly before he disappeared. The first time Dean pulled him into an embrace, Castiel was too stunned to move. It had been just after Dean had trapped Gabriel and they had left the warehouse. Sam climbed into the car, but Dean paused before following him and doubled back. Castiel saw the relief in his face for the few seconds he had before he was pressed against Dean's chest. Going completely still, Castiel quickly tried to remember what one was supposed to do in such a situation, but his mind refused to cooperate.

"Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What… what are you doing?"

Dean pulled back, hands resting on Castiel's shoulders as he gave him a long look. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Dean shook his head. "Nothing. You sure you're okay?"

Castiel nodded and Dean mirrored him, clapping his shoulder and then pulling away, acting as though the display of affection had never happened. Feeling more than a little confused, Castiel followed and made sure not to mention it. However, he did make a mental note to research hugs and not turn into a statue the next time it happened.

Hugs did not come easy, it seemed, and Castiel didn't find himself locked in another one until he recovered from his time travel. He blinked himself awake with a slight groan, his head hurt and everything else fell impossibly heavy. Pain, unlike most human sensations he now experienced, was very, very unpleasant.

"Cas," Dean said, apparently he had been sitting on the bed next to him. He helped Castiel into a sitting position, keeping one hand on his back to steady him. Dean gave him a searching look. "You okay? You were out for a while."

Castiel nodded and soon regretted it as the pain in his head seemed to grow. "I believe I will be fine." He winced and looked at Dean pleadingly. "If possible, can we never do that again?"

Laughing, Dean ruffled Castiel's hair, the corner of his eyes crinkling as his smile grew. "Sure thing. Time travel weirds me out anyway." The mirth faded from his face, replaced by an odd calm. Dropping his hand from Castiel's head to his shoulder, Dean pulled him into a tight hug.

Though the sudden closeness put pressure on Castiel's aching limbs, he only paused for a second before sliding his arms around Dean and resting his head on the man's shoulder. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is what happens every time I help you interfere with the proper flow of time, I suppose I could do it again."

Pulling back, Dean pressed a fist to his mouth to cover a snicker. Seeing Castiel was serious, as if he ever wasn't, Dean blanched, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.

"You two want some alone time?" Sam asked from the other side of the room. Castiel blinked in surprise, he hadn't actually noticed Sam was there. Though he was far from an expert on the subject Castiel could detect quite a lot of sarcasm in Sam's tone.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut it, bitch." He stood up and moved away, muttering about whether they had any booze left under his breath, squeezing Castiel shoulder briefly as he did so. Castiel was quite sure Sam saw, but neither brother commented on it.

As he grew more and more human, Castiel spent more and more time with the Winchesters. Thus, he became very aware of Dean's subconscious need for physical contact. Bobby and Sam, likely because they were so used to Dean, seemed not to notice. Castiel did, but found it was better not to mention it or Dean would suddenly stop and act very uncomfortable and possibly consume an unhealthy amount of alcohol. He did his best to act as though he barely noticed when Dean would suddenly pull him closer with and arm around his shoulders or when the hunter would lean over him to examine the book he was reading. It wasn't quite as difficult as he had thought it would be and it soon felt quite natural… well, almost. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about it, apart from the fact that Castiel found himself wanting the small pats on the back or messing of his hair and it sort of, kind of, almost bothered him when it didn't happen.

However, as Castiel became one of the team more and more, Dean's signs of affection became more and more frequent until it was as if the two were joined at the hip. Sam found himself resigned to the back seat more often than not, Dean driving, with one arm slung around the passenger's seat. The constant contact became a comfort Castiel had never previously had, but now found he needed.

Touch was an intrinsically human thing, and a fundamental part of Dean. It was how he operated, how he expressed, how he connected. Everything he needed to say could be demonstrated with a pat on the shoulder or teasing arm punch. Dean could articulate, but his words often came out forced and messy. The way he stood, the way he stared, those were his words. Not everyone understood them, but the people who mattered to him were the ones that tried hard enough to figure him out. Being able to pull Sammy into his arms after almost loosing him for the millionth time, leaving a lingering hand on Bobby's shoulder, sharing a look with Cas that lasted a minute, but said a thousand words, it was all Dean needed.

Of course, occasionally different touches occurred, ones he wasn't always used to, like when Cas saw couples holding hands and decided he wanted to try it or when he asked about the significance of mistletoe when Bobby made them throw out old boxes full of Christmas decorations. Actually, he could probably get used to some of those…

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><p><strong>AN: So this kinda zigzagged on me a little, but I think it came out okay. Like I said at the beginning, I have a bunch of other oneshots/chapter fics in the works, I'll put a poll on my profile so please tell me which one I should finish first! Unless I have some direction, I kinda hop all over the place, so this would be super helpful!**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has favorited or reviewed, you guys are amazing! **


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